In The Game of Love

fifteen

 Sherlock found John's luggage before the train stopped. He also grabbed Simza's bag he had stowed away with extra clothes for Y/N and himself. Once they were off, they changed and cleaned up. They were on the earliest ferry to France the next morning. John was reading over some papers for the case while Sherlock was staring straight ahead, clearly in his own mind. Y/N was trying not get caught in her own worried mind. Her hands were absentmindedly fiddling with her skirt. Sherlock noticed and without moving his focus, he set on of his large, rough hands on top of hers. She immediately felt calmer. John tried not to smirk as he watched the interaction.

"So why Paris?" John asked.

"Peaches," Sherlock answered. "Outside the city, at Montreuil," he reached down and grabbed a bag of dried peaches from Simza's bag with his free hand, "there's a gypsy camp famous for its dried, fruit, especially peaches." He pulled one out to show John. "And there we shall find our fortune teller," Sherlock placed the bag back down, "and return her bag."

John looked down in Simza's bag and furrowed his brows. He reached down and pulled out the object he was looking at. Y/N inhaled sharply as she noticed Irene's bloody handkerchief in John's hand. Sherlock noticed as well. He let go of Y/N's hand, took the handkerchief from John's grasp, and stood up. John and Y/N watched as Sherlock walked over to the railing. Sherlock looked out at the water as he brought the handkerchief to his nose and smelled it. He glanced back, meeting Y/N's watery gaze. Y/N quickly looked away.

Sherlock turned back to the water and let the handkerchief go. He went back to his seat, took hold of one of Y/N's hands, and brought it to his lips for a kiss. Y/N didn't look his way, simply closing her eyes. Both Sherlock and Y/N knew why she was acting this way, she was worried that Sherlock's feelings for Irene were stronger than his feelings for her. Even with Irene being dead. Sherlock knew though that now was not the time to assure Y/N of where she stood. They needed to focus on the task at hand.

~~~

Once they arrived on dry land, the trio got a carriage and headed to the gypsy camp. John took the reins, allowing Y/N and Sherlock to rest. Y/N was placed in the middle and she fell asleep quickly, head falling on Sherlock's shoulder. He didn't fall asleep, but allowed his head to gently rest on hers. When the carriage arrived at the camp, they were stopped by gypsies.

"Wake up, we're here," John said. Y/N slowly blinked, neither her or Sherlock making any sudden moves.

"Brace yourself," Sherlock warned, not opening his eyes. "We're about to be violated."

"Don't be so cynical."

"He's right, John," Y/n commented.

John leaned down to the gypsies standing at the carriage's side. "Bonjour. Mademoiselle Simza?"

"Oui, Monsieur," one of the young men responded. "Oui, oui, Monsieur. Simza. Oui."

"Perfect. Perfect."

Sherlock got out of the carriage first, making sure to turn around and help Y/N out. He pulled her close as he reached around and grabbed Simza's bag.

"Stay by me," he whispered.

Y/N nodded and allowed Sherlock to guide her, arm around her waist, towards the head of the camp. John followed them with gypsies coming up and taking things from them.

"They're taking my luggage," John stated.

"Laugh them away, Watson," Sherlock responded. "I have her bag. J'ai son sac." One of the gypsies tore the bag out of Sherlock's grip.

"You had her bag."

"Now they have my coat."

"Stop complaining, John," Y/N scolded. "You can get another one once the case is over."